The last Sandy Hook
This is the hardest prose I ever had to type in my blog. I don't think I ever became passionate like this with the words I used. Perhaps it's connected to me in a way because it involves a special education teacher and her paraprofessional that met their demise the same day. It feels out of my shell and it took time to be sure I got the victims names right, though I extended a few of them or wrote the Spanish equivalent where applicable. Forgive me for feeling horrible about this.
I know I could barely change all things; I know some things shall always remain constant.
I could give sympathies, condolences or thoughts over anything terrible that happens.
But if there's something I know of that can, shall, and must change -- it's about assault rifles and semi automatic ones too. It's become commonplace and so conspicuous it should be crazy and a crime.
Twenty one lives matter and don't have to leave by a massacre in vain.
The time is around 11:30am CDT on May 24, 2022, and nineteen elementary school students are in the right place where they are meant to be. About four or five of them just had happy things occur to them hours even days earlier.
One girl didn't even want to go to school that day, sensing that something bad was going to happen.
One teacher was planning a wedding anniversary with her husband later, another one was proud of her fourth grade students that she taught all of this year and seventeen others while also known as someone that had helped an autistic student like me during her teaching years.
Most importantly, those nineteen kids were going to come home to their families and two ladies were going to come home to their husbands -- one of them planning twenty five years since she got married to her husband.
They were planning vacation time and more happy things to come to them. It's very close to the end of the academic year.
The fourth graders among them were about to move up to enter fifth grade.
Then an eighteen year old troubled, reserved, and scary troublemaking Chupacabra shoots his weapon to the window through a school parking lot for twelve minutes before just walking into Robb Elementary and going into four different classrooms, systematically commiting robbery on young futures, femicide and genocide on twenty one of his own ethnic Latino people that were strangers to him.
I don't know how or even why he got there, particularly after he almost murders his grandma to later drive and abandon his grandma's pickup truck near the elementary school without a driver's license. I don't understand why he picked that particular elementary school.
His grandpa especially doesn't realize his grandson has bought two legal semi-automatics; he himself has had a criminal record that doesn't let him be in a residence with any weapon.
His mom sends him over to his grandparents because she has a fight and a falling out with her son. Even his grandma has to fight him over a phone bill.
No one in that family even knows where the dad is in this Chupacabra's life.
All of that doesn't matter in the end, even when a border patrol cop eventually annihilated the Chupacabra.
Evangelína Mireles, Irma García, Elíana García, Uziyah García, José Flores Jr., Xavier Diego López, Amerie Josefina Garza, Annabell Guadalupe Rodríguez, Alexandria Aniyah Rubio, Tessa Mariela Mata, Nevaeh Alyssa Bravo, Elíahana Cruz Torres, Jacklyn Jaylen Cazares, Alithia Ramírez, Jayce Carmelo Luevanos, Jailah Nicole Silguero, Makenna Lee Elrod, Miranda Mathis, Layla Salazar, María-Teresa (Maite) Yuleana Rodríguez, Rojelio Torres
Y'all didn't deserve to leave this earth that morning the way you did.
Amerie, you tried calling for help, Irma, you hugged your students that were scared out of their mind over the guns that were used, Evangelína, you were a lady that helped an autistic student like me years before and you just jumped in to save your students lives, Tessa, you just wanted to go to a Disney park, Alithia, you just celebrated ten years since you came into this unforgivable Earth, Elíahana, you especially wanted to read a Bible that coming Sunday, Jacklyn, you were so happy about a Catholic communion - you would have been more than happy about a quince that was stolen from you.
Estos tiroteos me ponen tan triste, enojado, enfadado y mal. Yo no sé por qué hay que quitarle la felicidad casi de inmediato. Pero este tiroteo se convertirá en la última vez que alguien robe la felicidad de muchachos innocentes.
Por los senadores, representantes, y gobernadores, ser cobarde es malo, y la decisión correcta es a menudo muy difícil. No esperes a hacerlo algo bien antes de que te afecte. No tenga miedo de tomar una decisión difícil con respecto a este problema.
Para la policía, haz tu trabajar mejor para arrinconar a la gente que hace el mal.
Para los residentes de la ciudad, nunca te conformes con la desesperanza con respecto a este problema. Dígale a las personas de su confianza si nota algo que no se ven bien.
Para las personas heridas, tómate todo el tiempo que necesites para sanar del dolor.
Para los sobrevivientes de la masacre, tómense todo el tiempo que necesiten para procesar lo sucedido.
Por las familias y huérfanos de las víctimas, no pierdan la esperanza de que algo bueno salga de está terrible tragedia.
Yo estoy cansando de las masacres que suceden demasiado. Esto no puede seguir pasando cada vez en este país. ¡No más!
